- end_line
- 404
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:09.927Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 359
- text
- “Alas! I have naught to give. Behold my poverty.”
“I can not see,” replied Pani; but feeling of his garments, he said,
“Thou wouldst deceive me; hast thou not this robe, and this staff?”
“Oh! Merciful Pani, take not my all!” wailed the pilgrim. But his
worthless gaberdine was thrust into the dwelling of the guide.
Meanwhile, the matron was still enveloping Pani in her interminable
tappas.
But the sad-eyed maiden, removing her upper mantle, threw it over the
naked form of the beggar.
The fifth pilgrim was a youth of an open, ingenuous aspect; and with an
eye, full of eyes; his step was light.
“Who art thou?” cried Pani, as the stripling touched him in passing.
“I go to ascend the Peak,” said the boy.
“Then take me for guide.”
“No, I am strong and lithesome. Alone must I go.”
“But how knowest thou the way?”
“There are many ways: the right one I must seek for myself.”
“Ah, poor deluded one,” sighed Pani; “but thus is it ever with youth;
and rejecting the monitions of wisdom, suffer they must. Go on, and
perish!”
Turning, the boy exclaimed—“Though I act counter to thy counsels, oh
Pani, I but follow the divine instinct in me.”
“Poor youth!” murmured Babbalanja. “How earnestly he struggles in his
bonds. But though rejecting a guide, still he clings to that legend of
the Peak.”
The rest of the pilgrims now tarried with the guide, preparing for
their journey inland.
- title
- Chunk 3